


Bittersweet

by riizahawkeye



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, Memory Loss, Mustang's Team, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, havoc and breda are ready to commit arson (no pun intended), just go with it, memory manipulation, murder??, riza would kill for team mustang, team mustang would kill for riza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riizahawkeye/pseuds/riizahawkeye
Summary: After all this time she'd hoped to see him again, but not like this.Updated every Wednesday!(Please check the tags before reading)
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> re·un·ion  
> noun  
> An instance of two or more people coming together again after a period of separation.

Another day, another tiring assignment. Riza huffed as she adjusted her grip on her gun. The Blaser wasn’t typically her rifle of choice. She’d needed it for this, though, so she made do with what she had. How she managed to smuggle it into this apartment complex without being spotted was beyond her, but she was grateful for her luck.

This specific apartment was empty. Well, somewhat. Someone lived here, but they hadn’t been around in a while. They had scoped out a few different areas for a couple of weeks now and decided that this would be the best place to take the shot. Not too far, but just enough to not raise much suspicion.

She mentally went over the briefing from this morning for what felt like the hundredth time and fiddled with the focus on her scope. It was a nervous habit she resorted to when she wasn’t able to dismantle, clean, polish, and reassemble her firearms. She needed a distraction from the inevitability of eventually having to pull the trigger on an old comrade. He had gone missing a few years ago and when someone had discovered him again, he was gone. Not physically, no. Emotionally. Mentally.

The man he once was seemed so far away now. No one was able to get close enough to interrogate him without getting injured; some even killed. He’d never do this. But then again, it wasn’t him anymore. Riza had a hard time trying to separate the leader she once knew from the monster that lived inside him now. She didn’t want to believe it was true, but then again, she didn’t have a choice.

Several reports had come in regarding his aid in several murders and kidnappings. There were even rumors of his affiliation with a human trafficking ring that Riza’s team had been trying to get their hands on for a while.

If only they could get information out of this bastard.

The scope settled to something easier on “The Hawk’s Eyes” as she had been named by the public a while back. She had become something of an urban legend among the people in Central. No one had ever seen her or had the slightest clue as to what she looked like. Because of this, she was referred to as a male, _because what woman would be that good with a gun?_ She didn't appreciate the blatant misogyny, but she'd have to deal with it. The Hawk's Eyes had been notorious for making shots at such an incredible distance that her eyes couldn’t have been those of a human. They settled on comparing them to that of a hawk’s with a bit of help from her team. If ever they overheard talk of her, they’d casually build up the conversation to a place where they could seamlessly compare her vision to the bird and somehow, it caught on. If only the people knew the irony behind the title. Hawkeye was a coincidental last name. Her men just found it amusing that people could simultaneously know who she is and have no clue as to who she truly _was_. She had to admit, the praise alongside with the anonymity stroked her ego.

Her muscles ached. She had been here for what seemed like hours. Sure, she enjoyed some peace and quiet, but this silence was beginning to creep up on her and she didn’t like it. She was just grateful that she had a good angle from the apartment’s bedroom window. She’d considered the possibility of having to shoot from some of the other windows and didn’t find them favorable. It wasn’t that she couldn’t take the shot. She was a professional and could adapt to most anything. But the thought of having to perch on a kitchen counter or uncomfortably position herself in a cramped bathroom just wasn’t ideal.

Her weight shifted from one leg to the other and she quickly glanced at her watch. According to their plan, she should be able to get her eyes on the target within a few minutes. This would be simple. It would be just like every other assassination. Aim and shoot.

She was sorely mistaken.

Damn her practically perfect vision. When one sense is heightened, the others are lowered. An equivalent exchange. So that’s why she hadn’t heard the bedroom door open. She’d blame it on that rather than her carelessness. Her rifle was kicked out of her grasp. The scope had barely skimmed over the bone of her brow before the gun as a whole clattered on the ground. A heavy foot collides with her chest and pins her to the ground. Noting that a gun was being raised toward her, she quickly did the same and pointed the one holstered to her thigh toward whoever the hell decided to jeopardize her mission.

"Who are you and why the fuck are you in my house?"

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” Her remark comes out a little breathier than she would have liked but she didn’t have much of a say in the matter. There was a foot that danced dangerously with the possibility of breaking a few of her ribs and even damaging her lungs.

She took a moment to analyze her adversary. Dark slicked-back hair; mostly hidden below a wide-brimmed hat. Matching dark eyes. Relatively tall. Fairly muscular, much more than she. Though that didn’t matter. She had enough training to last a surprisingly long time when sparring with her partner Alex, and he was _huge_.

“This is my fucking house, lady! Speak for yourself! Who the hell are you and why are you here?” He jutted his gun out further in attempt to intimidate her. It wasn’t going to.

Riza assessed that she didn’t have many options and entertained the idea of persuasion. _Sure, why not._

“Listen. I’m on a time limit here. Let me do what I have to do and I’ll be out of your hair.” There’s no way this was going to work.

“I’m not letting you shoot someone out of my window. I’m not about to get my ass in deep shit because of you. I’ll ask you again. Who are you and why are you here?” His other leg swept around to kick her gun out of her hand. Riza cried out as all of his weight momentarily shifted onto her chest. His foot lifted off of her chest but moved to her other wrist. His boots were on both of her hands and she was completely pinned down. But at least she could breathe.

Well, somewhat. The moment his foot left her chest she had begun to cough and wheeze, though she was quick to regain a steady control on her breath.

“Listen to me, damn it. This man is a fucking deranged psychopath walking around in broad daylight without consequence. I’m not about to let you ruin this for me.” She attempted to tug her wrists out from under his feet, but to no avail.

“Are you kidding me? What are you, some bounty hunter?" Something dawns upon him. "Oh my god. _Wonderful_. Just _great_. I come back from vacation and there’s a fucking bounty hunter in my house.” Then he stops. “You get one shot.”

_Wait. What?_

“What?”

“I said you get one shot. After that, you’re going to fucking talk. Don't make me change my mind.” He roughly pushed off of her hands and stepped back. Did this just fucking work? She wasn’t going to sit there and question it. She was running out of time. Riza scrambled to get her rifle and reposition herself at the window.

“Thank you, but to clarify, I’m not a bounty hunter.” Her eye is practically glued to the scope. “I’ll tell you as much as I’m legally allowed to.”

He groans. “I don’t care about legal shit. All I want to know is who you are and how the hell you got here.” He sets his gun down on a nearby dresser and crosses his arms. He let out a low mumble. “Never liked the law anyway…” Something about the way he spoke unsettled her, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Sorry to disappoint you, sir, but I’m in the field of law enforcement. Why else would I be going after a criminal?” There was a hint of slyness in her tone. The man seemed to huff in response. He lights a cigarette and looks out the window from behind her. His hat was placed next to his gun.

“Well isn’t that funny.” The dryness in his voice spoke for itself. He was not happy with the situation he was in.

“Smoking kills, you know.”

“So does a bullet, but you don’t seem to care.”

“As I stated before, this man is a _criminal_. He’s kidnapped, assaulted, and murdered several people." She opted to leave out the trafficking. She didn't know if she could trust this man with such sensitive information. "So yes, I do care, but not when it comes to people like him. My job is to protect people. If I have to put a bullet in someone who’s a danger to society, I will.” She sounded more and more agitated by the second. She took a deep breath before she fixed her focus back to scanning the area.

“Are you sure you can make a shot from this distance? You’re pretty far away, sweetheart.” Riza tensed up and her finger twitched. He was taunting her. She was slow to anger, but the way he had spoken to her was irritating. Was he wanting her to miss? More importantly, why was he of all people getting to her? “Aw, are you getting worked up? I thought you guys were good at working under pressure. Guess I was wrong-”

She pulled the trigger.

Someone on the street below drops to the ground like a ragdoll. Several people fled the scene in fear.

“Nice shot, sweetheart.”

Riza had come to a conclusion. This guy was a dick.

“Alright, that settles that.” She begins to pack her rifle away. “I’ll be going now.” She stands and turns toward the door and there he is, arms still crossed, blocking the doorway. The damned bastard reeked of overconfidence.

“Ah- no. I don’t think so. We made a deal, remember?” One of his eyebrows raised. “Now tell me, who are you?” He leaned against the doorway.

Riza had considered her options of an escape route within the room before she even set up, should she need it. It was something she did with every room she walked in. Jumping from the window was suicide, that much was obvious. Her only other option was through that door.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

“I’m an assassin. Next question.”

“Give me your name.”

“No.”

The man shifts his weight. “Come on, you don’t want me to keep calling you sweetheart, do you?” His smug smile was sickening. Why was he getting under her skin like this? She’s the calm and rational one. The one who stays calm under pressure. Why was he setting her off?

“Sir, I am The Hawk’s Eyes.” She retorts with confidence.

There’s an uncomfortable silence between them. A grin gradually grows on his face.

“First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. I knew you looked familiar.” 

Riza’s breath caught in her throat. _What?_ How did he know who she was? He must have known her in her military days. Maybe that’s why his presence was so unnerving. Maybe that’s why it felt so familiar.

 _Familiar?_ That would mean they had to have had some encounter that would’ve left such an impression. One that made her remember him, even vaguely.

 _Think, Riza. Think._ Who had she known besides her team? She rarely interacted with anyone on her own accord so this must have been… 

_No._

“Ex-Colonel Roy Mustang.” He was smug. The damned bastard was _smug_ about this. What the fuck was wrong with him.

Riza’s stomach churned. She felt like she was going to vomit. After being gone for so long, _this_ is how he greets her. After _years_ of being missing, fucking presumed dead, he just acts as if nothing happened. As if he hadn’t caused his entire team immense amounts of grief. As if he hadn’t left everyone in the dust.

There’s no way that this man was truly Roy Mustang. She refused to believe that he was their colonel. This wasn’t _her_ colonel. He couldn’t be.

Her jaw clenched tightly as she shut her eyes. “I’ll be leaving now.”

And just like that, he points his gun at her. The barrel pressed against her chest.

“You’re not going anywhere.” The barrel pushed harder against her chest. She refused to open her eyes.

_Had he met the same fate as the man she had just killed? Had he too gone mad?_

Her nose twitched. Whatever had happened to him, this most certainly wasn’t Roy. Roy was gone, just like that man, and all that was left of him was his body and what little memory he had left. Roy was gone.

_So why couldn’t she raise her weapon against him?_

She takes a deep breath. “You won’t shoot me.”

His chuckle sent a shiver down her spine and she hated it. She felt disgusting. “You’re right. I won’t. This is just in case you try anything, Miss Hawkeye.” She hated hearing his voice say her name like that. On any other day, it would have been fine. Welcomed. Maybe even charming. But this… She didn’t want this. After all this time she'd hoped to see him again, but not like this. “Might I remind you, we have some unfinished business. Why don’t you tell me who your target was? Who did you just kill?” 

God, he sounds like Kimblee.

“I’m not going to tell you. Besides, I don’t think you’d want to know. You two were pretty close.” She’s seething and it’s very evident.

Oh, he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

“Let me take a guess. Havoc? Did you kill Jean Havoc?” A sudden excruciating pain jolts through her foot and Riza cried out. She fell to her knees.

He shot her. He actually shot her.

“How cruel of you to kill one of your teammates. How selfish of you to take one of _my_ men.” He looked down on her, the smugness long gone. He was angry. Riza rarely saw him like this and when she did it was terrifying. This was no different. She had to get out of here. She had to escape.

“Nice try, but you’re wrong.” She hissed out through gritted teeth. Her fingers pressed against an earpiece tucked away behind some hair. “This is Hawkeye; requesting ba-” He wouldn’t let her finish. Taking advantage of his higher ground, Roy’s foot slammed into the side of her head. Riza’s cry filled the room as she fell completely to the ground.

“Maes. It was Maes, wasn’t it?” He wouldn’t stop. He wanted answers and wouldn’t let up until he got what he wanted. 

She weakly laughed. “Wrong again.”

His anger only grew.

“Then tell me who the fuck it was before I blow your brains out, you bitch.” His voice was loud. Loud and aggressive. His gun was shoved toward her face.

Roy would never yell at her like that. He’d never speak to her like that. This wasn’t Roy, but god damn it, it still hurt.

“General Grumman, you bastard. I had to kill my own fucking grandfather because he went fucking mad, and it seems like you have too. So what, are you happy? Is this what you fucking wanted?” She was angry. Blinded by her own rage. The colonel was scary, yes, but people shuddered at the thought of being on the receiving end of the wrath of The Hawk’s Eyes. She’d been through enough already, what with having to assassinate her only living relative. Roy came at a bad time, and his attitude only dug his own grave. “They already know my location, you’re fucked either way, Mustang. And if you think killing me is an option, I’ll be the first to tell you that it’d be the biggest mistake you could make. If I’m going down, I’m sure as hell taking you with me.” She pulls her gun out of the holster and shoots him in the thigh. He stumbles to the ground in front of her and his gun clatters on the ground. 

“Such a loyal subordinate. Looks like you really will be following me into hell.” 

He didn’t just say that.

_He didn’t just say that._

What’s happened to him? What happened to her colonel? What went wrong, and why is this happening?

“Hawkeye!”

Havoc. Thank fucking god. She couldn’t take any more of this. How they got here so quickly, she’ll never know. She wasn’t going to question it. She just wanted out of this situation as soon as possible.

“Looks like we have company, lieutenant.” 

And just like that, in came Havoc. And then Breda. And then Falman. Furey. Armstrong. Her entire primary team was here.

This isn’t what they were expecting.

“What a touching family reunion.” Roy turned towards the door. “Hello, boys. How’ve you been?”

This isn’t what they wanted.


	2. Reminisce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rem·i·nisce  
> verb  
> Indulge in enjoyable recollection of past events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a little backstory for you guys ;)  
> Hope you enjoy it! Kudos and comments appreciated!

“What the fuck just happened?” Havoc slumps down into the first chair he can find. Falman had carried Riza off to their base’s infirmary and Armstrong stood guard in a separate room should Roy pull something while one of their medics attended to his wounds. Breda, along with doctor Knox, had to drag Havoc away from Hawkeye’s unconscious body. He didn’t want to leave her, none of them did, but the doctors insisted that they’d only get in the way while they worked to extract the bullet from her foot. She had been in there for a while now.

When Mustang had first gone missing, the team was crushed. A few of them started off fairly hopeful. Furey, ever the optimist, suggested the possibility that the colonel had caught some bug and needed to take some leave for a sick day. Everyone agreed with him and carried out their days. Well, almost everyone. Riza knew that he wouldn’t take a sick day without calling in to alert them of his temporary absence first. She knew him better than anyone else and everyone in his team knew that. It went without saying. Despite her immense concern, Riza never voiced it. She couldn’t. The only option was to hold it in and remain resolute as she had always been. 

The next day, they never received a call. The air seemed to thicken. It was hard to breathe. There was less idle chatter and conversations fell to boring topics such as the weather. They were the conversions you had when you didn’t know where to go or what to do. None of them knew how to move forward. The liveliness of their office died into a solemn, uncomfortable silence. Havoc mentioned that he had tried to call the colonel, but no one picked up.

The boys planned out different times to try to call. Maybe he was asleep the first time. If they called at different points in the day, surely he’d answer one of them. They took turns. Breda took the first call at 10, then Falman at 12. Kain followed up at 2, and Havoc at four. They tried to get Hawkeye to take the 6 o’clock shift, but she silently refused. She had gone silent, more so than usual. She didn’t speak up to keep them on track; she didn’t contribute to their small talk with her usual snide remarks. She never spoke, but she didn’t look completely gone. Havoc managed to pull her aside after work that day.

“Hawkeye, I know this is rough, but you don’t have to keep it to yourself. We’re all here for you. If anything, we owe it to you after years of you looking after us. And if you can’t go to them, you and I both know that you can come to me.” He leaned in closer. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what your relationship with the colonel is like, but I do know that you were the closest one to him.”

“Don’t say it like that.” She snapped. Her tone was bitter. Cold.

“Like what?” Havoc blinked a few times, clearly taken aback by her sudden outburst.

“You used a past tense. ‘...you _were_ the closest one to him.’ You say that as if he’s no longer with us. As if he were dead.” Her stare is frightening. Havoc could see her struggling to keep her composure. She was on the verge of breaking, and he wouldn’t let that happen. She held a special place in his heart since they met at the academy. Havoc viewed her as a sister. He swore to be there for her in the rare chance she should slip. Havoc pulled her close, and she didn’t fight him. “He isn’t dead, Jean,” His breath caught in his throat. Rarely did Hawkeye use someone’s first name. She deemed it unprofessional and swore against doing so in the workplace. If it weren’t obvious that she wasn’t taking the colonel’s absence well, it was now. “I know he’s not. I refuse to believe that he is. Until I see his body myself, Roy Mustang is _not_ dead.”

Hawkeye left him speechless. Each time her voice cracked or wavered it sent his heart a pang. Havoc swore that if, no, _when_ they saw the colonel again, he’d give him hell for worrying the lieutenant like this. Havoc offered to take her out for drinks, but she told him that she wasn’t in the best place to stomach alcohol. He settled on at least walking her home and offered her company while she took Hayate for his nightly walk.

“Please, keep this between us.” Riza muttered while unlocking the door to her apartment.

“You don’t always have to act so strong, lieutenant. It’s ok to show some emotion every once in a while.” He shot her a sympathetic smile. “Like I said, we wanna help you. You don’t have to be scared about opening up to us and you don’t have to close yourself off. It’s ok to not be ok.” Hawkeye stopped in her doorway and stood there for a moment.

“If I’m not strong, then who will be? I’m not going to let you put your emotions aside to help me.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?”

“I’ve been doing it for years now, Havoc. What’s a couple more?” Her hand found the doorknob. “Goodnight, Havoc. Be safe on your way home.” The door closed, and Havoc sighed.

“Night, lieutenant.” He turned on his heel and made his way back home.

The next day was just the same. The silence only grew. Everyone looked like they hadn’t gotten much rest, and they probably hadn’t. Minuets in the office felt like hours to Havoc. It was eating away at him and he was reaching his breaking point. Breda seemed to notice and gave him a glare that meant something along the lines of “I know this is rough, but watch yourself.”. But Havoc couldn’t. That’s just who he was. He quickly stood up, sending his chair sliding behind him.

“Damn it, I’m tired of this! What’s stopping us from marching up to his apartment and seeing him ourselves? He’s obviously in there just ignoring our fucking calls, so let’s just go bang on his door until he lets us in.” He was angry. He was very angry and everyone could see it. No one dared tell him no or try to convince him otherwise, not even the lieutenant. Havoc knew that they’d want to go see Mustang. He knew that they’d agreed with his wants. He didn’t need to convince or sway them.

And so they agonizingly waited until the workday was over and piled into a car. Falman insisted on driving knowing that Havoc wasn’t in the best emotional state and feared he’d let that affect his driving, so he ushered him in the backseat with Breda and Furey. Havoc only accepted on the condition that Riza sit in the front because he knew that if anyone needed space, it was her. They all knew that, and no one objected to it.

The drive was expectedly silent. When the car parked on the curb next to his complex, Havoc all but rushed to get out of the car. Everyone seemed to quicken their steps in anticipation. All except Hawkeye. She trailed behind them at a normal, slacked pace and this didn’t sit well with Havoc. But he had to focus on this, first. He needed answers and he damn well was going to get them. He opted against taking the lift and pushed himself up the steps with utmost urgency. 

He reached Roy’s door just before everyone else and began to repeatedly slam his fist on the door. “Mustang! Open the door! I know you’re in there, you bastard!” He felt a hand grab at his shoulder and whipped his head around to see Falman with a finger to his lips in an attempt to shush him.

“Other people live here too, you know? We could get kicked out if someone decides to call in a noise complaint.” Havoc wasn’t happy, but he knew that he was right.

“Well, what the fuck are we supposed to do, then?” His hands dramatically shot up into an animated shrug. “He won’t answer the door if we don’t keep trying. You’ve seen him at work. When he’s asleep, he won’t get up unless Hawkeye forces him to.” And then he pauses. “Hawkeye, you should try. He listens to you better than he does us.” Her head is hung and she reluctantly walks toward the door. Her hand falls on the knob and slides a key in before she twists it open. She takes a few steps in before can’t move any further.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, what’s going on?” Furey steps toward her, his voice dripping in concern. Hawkeye, back toward them, sinks down to her knees in the middle of Mustang’s living room. Her body is hunched over as she starts to convulse and choke back sobs. Breda closes the door as Havoc rushes to her side; the others follow in suit.

“Hawkeye, it’s ok. Everything is ok. Talk to me.” Havoc’s hand rests on her shoulder. Her face is buried in her hands. He wanted her to open up, but never thought it would come to this.

“I’m sorry… I’m so incredibly sorry…” She squeezes her words out in between her otherwise futile attempt to hold back her tears. “I came to see him the day he didn’t show up. I thought I’d at least give him the paperwork he needed to sign that day, but when I knocked, there was no answer. I’m his bodyguard, so I have his spare key. He…” Havoc can feel her tremble. “...he wasn’t here. I searched everywhere and eventually gave up. I came back the next day - yesterday - and he still wasn’t here. I went to Hughes. I went to Christmas. Nothing. There… There was nothing. I came back to ask his neighbors, and they had no idea he had even left the building. He’s… “ She had been holding herself back from breaking down all this time, but she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She tugged at Havoc’s uniform jacket and cried into his chest. No one said a word. They sat around her and silently offered her as much support as they could. 

She eventually forced herself to stop. “There’s nothing here for us. We need to go home. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you all, it won’t happen again.” Her voice wavered as she spoke. She apologized as if she had been reprimanded. She stood and her eyes were glued to the ground.

Breda called out to her. “Hawkeye, you don’t need to-” she cut him off.

“I need to retrieve something, and then we can go. I won’t be but a moment.” And just like that, Havoc watched her walk off into Mustang’s room. He turned to the others with a deep and heavy sigh.

“Go home. I’ll walk her back. She’ll need the air and it’ll give her time to clear her head.” He closed his eyes and shoved his hands in his pocket. What he would give to have his cigarettes on him.

“Havoc we can’t just-”

“You can, and you will. Go home. We have work to do tomorrow.”

No one fought back. They stood in silence before Breda led them out of the apartment, turning to give Havoc one last look. He had bags under his eyes and his eyes themselves almost seemed bloodshot, but his gaze was one of support. His eyes told Havoc that he was confident that Havoc knew what he was doing and had the situation under control. Breda closed the door not a second later. The apartment fell silent.

Havoc made his way to Mustang’s room and he leaned against the doorframe. She was shuffling through Roy’s nightstand. “You ok, Hawkeye?” He knew she wasn’t, and he knew that she’d tell him that she was. There was a long pause of silence. Havoc stood up straight. “Hawkeye?”

She was stiff as she turned to him. Her hands were carefully cradling something as if it were glass in her palms. He looked closer. Her hands were trembling. “Jean?” Hawkeye whimpered. He took a step closer to her and froze in place as she showed him what she found.

Roy Mustang’s military issued pocket watch.

Her face was stricken with fear as she looked back down to the trinket in her hands. “If he’s left this behind…” Her eyes met his. Her eyes were wide and her lips parted. She was pale. Ghostly pale. If he had left his pocket watch, the proof of him being an esteemed alchemist of the military behind, then he'd let go of his ambitions. He’s abandoned his goal to rise in the ranks. He’s abandoned his career in the military.

“. . .he’s left us behind." She sunk to her knees again, utterly petrified. "He isn't coming back."


	3. Rarefied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rar·e·fied  
> adjective  
> Distant from the lives and concerns of ordinary people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double hitter today! I'll be updating this story every Wednesday from now on, so look out for that!

“I think I’m going to be sick…” Furey sits at his desk in the corner. It's cluttered with random parts, screws, and tools. “Why is this happening?” He steals occasional glances at everyone else, and they all look worse for wear.

The military eventually sent out a team in search of Mustang, but with how long they were taking, it felt hopeless. The office was still quiet and solemn. Nothing could change the fact that they had lost their leader. They had lost their friend, and if Lieutenant Hawkeye was right - which she usually was - then he really wouldn’t be coming back.

Lieutenant Hawkeye had stepped out to run a report to one of the secretaries, leaving the boys alone in the office. 

To everyone’s surprise, Furey eventually broke the silence. “I can’t stand seeing her like this.” His hands were tightly laced in his hair. His elbows rested on the desk as he hung his head. “I don’t understand any of this. Colonel Mustang wouldn’t leave us like that. There’s got to be some other reason.” Kain took off his glasses and rested them on his desk before rubbing his hands over his eyes. “There has to be…” It wasn’t like him to get this emotional, especially in the office.

He heard an exaggerated sigh coming from his right and glanced over. “There’s nothing we can do, Furey. He’s gone.” Lieutenant Breda refused to meet his gaze. “Not to invalidate your grieving or anything. We just… there’s nothing we can do. I’m repeating myself, I know, but we’re stuck in this position where we can’t do anything about it. We can’t abandon our work to go and search for him ourselves.” And then he fell silent. It wasn’t the kind of silence someone succumbed to when they didn’t know what to say. No, the team had known Breda long enough to know exactly what this moment meant. There was something on his mind. Something conspiratorial. His voice was hushed, just loud enough for them to hear. “I can’t say I haven’t considered the possibility of this being something organized by the senior staff, but you know my brain. It goes a hundred miles an hour. Thinks of every explanation possible - and even impossible.” He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I mean, why else wouldn’t they allow his own team to search for him?” Everyone mulled over Breda’s words in silence.

“I know there wasn’t any evidence of it when we showed up to his place, but what if they had him killed…?” Furey’s voice wavered. No one wanted to think about the possibility of their commanding officer being dead, but everyone had thought about it at least once.

“No, they wouldn’t do that. He’s too valuable to them. Hero of Ishval ‘n whatnot.” Lieutenant Havoc leaned back in his seat; his cigarette danced between his lips. “He’s a human weapon. You wouldn’t throw away your service weapon, would you?”

“Quiet.” Breda stiffened and pointed towards the door. There was a faint echo of footsteps approaching. Everyone quickly returned to what they were doing should someone walk in. Breda’s conversation could be considered treason by some, and they’d all be in trouble if someone were to overhear. The steps grew closer and eventually halted to a stop. The doorknob turned. A million thoughts raced through Furey’s head. _Will I be court-martialed? Demoted? Stripped of my rank entirely? Oh god. What if they kill me?_ And then the most harrowing thought of all: _Will I end up like the Colonel?_

The door swung open and he sucked in a breath, only to release it upon realizing it was just Lieutenant Hawkeye returning from her errand. There was no announcement of her return. No comment welcoming her back. Just the solemn silence that had hung over them for the past week.

It must have been evident that Kain wasn’t handling the situation well. When he arrived in the office the next day, he was greeted by a very excited Black Hayate. He smiled and leaned down to pet the small pup for a minute or two before glancing up at Lieutenant Hawkeye. She was focused on her work, of course, but Furey swore he saw the smallest of smiles on her face. Had she snuck her dog into the office for them? 

Hayate had stayed mostly by Hawkeye’s side throughout the day but came to Furey when she had to step out. Nothing needed to be said about the Lieutenant’s small display of affection. Everyone had known that she was spent from this ordeal just as much as they were - though it was obvious that she had it far worse than any of them. She just wanted them to be ok. Hawkeye had always been immensely selfless when it came to her team. Though never vocal about it, she cared deeply for each and every one of them, and it was reciprocated tenfold. The office would be a mess if not for Hawkeye keeping them in line every day. They’d be lost without her. As much as they may bicker back and forth, they truly do appreciate everything that Hawkeye does for them. It was a shame that everyone on the team was terrible when it came to expressing their emotions.

At the end of the day, Furey made sure to thank her for the kind gesture.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye!” He called out to her to catch her attention before she left for the day. Hawkeye looked back at him over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised as she shrugged on her coat. “I’d just like to thank you. For bringing Hayate, I mean.” He offered her a simple smile. All he got in response was a smile that mirrored his and a curt nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for them.

* * *

Falman props himself up against the wall and hangs his head. No words could express his inner turmoil. A door opened and caught everyone’s attention. Armstrong stood tall in the doorway.

“Colonel Mustang has been transferred to the holding cell.”

“Cut the shit, Alex. He’s not a colonel and he certainly isn’t ours. Not anymore…” Havoc snaps from across the room.

Armstrong sighs and visibly deflates before continuing. “He’s unconscious, though I advise that no one go to see him. We should wait for further orders from Captain Hawkeye. That is all.” Armstrong left just as quickly as he came.

What has this come to? What’s happened to their team?

“If you all have a moment, I’d like to speak with everyone.” Well, this was a surprise. Miss Hawkeye hadn’t spoken in weeks unless she absolutely had to. Because of that, she had quickly gathered everyone’s attention. She casually walked over to the office door and twisted the lock. “Well, _we’d_ like to speak with everyone.” Havoc stood up and leaned against the Colonel’s desk next to Hawkeye.

“Furey, can you do me a favor and find us a station to listen to? And none of that political crap.” Havoc snuffed out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe and threw the bud in a nearby can like he knew he shouldn’t have. Hawkeye had lectured him enough times about potentially starting a fire in the office. If his cigarette was still hot, it could very well catch the waste in the can on fire. Havoc had insisted that the Colonel was able to smother the flame with his alchemy - and he wasn’t wrong - but it never stopped the Lieutenant from chewing him out every time he had done it. This time she hadn't.

“Ah- yes, sir. Of course.” Furey made quick work to find a nice station that played contemporary music. He fiddled with the volume until Havoc gave him the ok.

“It’s about Mustang.” If they didn’t have their attention before, they certainly do now. “We know for a fact that he isn’t missing. We also know that he isn’t dead.” Havoc fell silent for a moment. His eyes were glued to the ground just in front of his feet. “He left us.”

Falman’s breath hitched. He caught Breda quickly standing up out of the corner of his eye. His hand rested on the surface of his desk to prop himself up. “And what makes you so sure about that?” He sounded angry, though, he had every right to be. Although they knew that Havoc liked to mess around with the team, they also knew that he wouldn’t joke about something like this. But he couldn’t blame Breda. No one wants to hear that their superior officer - their friend - had intentionally up and left them without so much as a goodbye. God knows how badly this must be affecting Hawkeye. Wordlessly, she dug her hand into her pocket and pulled out something metallic and shiny.

The Colonel’s pocket watch.

“The Lieutenant found this in his apartment. Wherever he went, he intentionally left this behind.”

Breda’s fist slammed down onto his desk. “So you’re telling me that Mustang abandoned us? Is that what you’re trying to say?” His anger only grew. Falman was alert to the tension. He quickly got up and placed a hand on Breda’s shoulder.

“Lieutenant Breda-”

“Back off, Falman.” He took a step back out of shock before sitting back down. Breda, on the other hand, took a step forward towards Havoc. “You’re saying that he left us with no fucking explanation? Is that it?”

Havoc glared at Breda. “Listen. I don’t like this situation just as much as you, but do you think I’d lie about this? I mean, what other explanation is there?”

Breda tightly grabbed the collar of Haovc’s uniform jacket and pulled him down to his level. “I don’t fucking know, but you better come up with one. There’s no way I’m going to believe that Mustang willingly left us all, especially Hawkeye. He wouldn’t do that to us, but especially not her.” Breda growled. Falman was stunned. He’d never been this angry before. 

“Lieutenant Breda, that’s enough.” Hawkeye’s authoritative voice filled the room as she forcefully pulled Breda away from Havoc. That came as a shock to everyone. She maintained sharp eye contact with him for what felt like minutes. It was almost as if they were having a wordless conversation.

Breda closed his eyes and sighed. “I’m sorry, Havoc. I was out of line.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re upset, I get it. Trust me, Hawkeye saw my end of that when we first found the watch.” He let out a sheepish chuckle in an attempt to alleviate the tension. Sadly, the room fell into a tense silence.

“I apologize for bothering you all. I felt that I should let everyone know rather than keeping this information to ourselves.” Hawkeye’s voice was low and somber. “I’d also like to inform you all that I’ve made a decision.” Her grip on his watch tightened. “When I joined the military, I swore to help the Colonel carry out his dream. While I may not be able to do what he planned for himself, I intend to continue working towards his goal.” She held up the watch by the chain and it dangled in front of them. “He may have abandoned this, but I won’t.”

Everyone was at a loss for words. Honestly, what could be said after a confession like that?

“I already know that Lieutenant Havoc disapproves of my choice. I will not let that perturb me. Protest all you like, my mind has been made up and there’s nothing any of you can do to convince me otherwise.”

So after all this - after her leader had abandoned her, she’s still determined to see his plans through. Falman sighed. Though unsure of her decision, he admired her resolve. The Lieutenant was stubborn, that much was evident, but truthfully, Falman saw no reason to stop her. If he were in her shoes, he’d certainly feel the same - to an extent.

“Damn it.” Breda slid back down into his chair and rested his head in his hands. “This is such a mess.”


End file.
